Never In Our Favor
by shedoesntbelieveinlove
Summary: Book One of the Hunger Games AU, told in Gale's POV. Gale enters the 74th Games with Katniss. His name was in 42 times that day; the odds weren't in his favor. Her voice called out to volunteer that day; the odds weren't in her favor. They had to go into the arena together; the two who moved as one, knowing only one could come out. The odds are never in their favor.
1. Chapter 1

The early morning sun hasn't stretched over my thin mattress yet when Posy nudges me awake. Her smile can be heard through her childish voice that begs me to play with her, and even though I would've appreciated an extra ten minutes of sleep, I rise anyways. I swing my legs off the edge of the low bed and slip them into a pair of boots resting on the floor. They are old, incredibly worn, and the soles are growing thin, but I refuse to buy another pair, no matter how much my mother comments on their condition. _They were good enough for Dad,_ I remind her. _So they're good enough for me._

My shirt hangs over the back of a chair in the corner of the room I share with the rest of my siblings, but as I tuck my pant legs into my boots, I watch Posy tug it off and wrap it around herself like a blanket. In spite of the chilly air that stings my bare back, I laugh quietly. Her small frame is instantly swallowed by the sheer amount of fabric, but she manages to wave at me cheekily. "If you want your shirt, you got to catch me!" she exclaims, giggling. Posy races out of the room quickly, her tiny bare feet barely making a sound against the wooden floor. I roll my eyes but get up too, pretending to run after her to take back the stolen clothing. The sound of her footsteps comes to a halt- she's hidden herself somewhere. "I'm gonna getcha," I call out, my voice barely above a whisper. "You can't hide from me, you know," I add. I stop and stand still for a moment, waiting for a sound to reveal her hiding place to me. The house is small- two tiny bedrooms and a multifunctional kitchen and living area- so there aren't many places to hide, but somehow, Posy is constantly finding new places to squeeze into. After a minute or so, I hear a giggle from the far corner of the kitchen, and smile to myself. My mother remarks on this often. _Only one person can bring out a smile in Katniss, but two people can bring out a smile in you, Gale._ It doesn't take a District 3 genius to figure out who these two are.

I move over to Posy's location easily, then let out a shout as I draw back the threadbare curtain. She shrieks and laughs loudly, surely waking the other boys- but I forget it in favor of a little bit of fun with Posy. Especially today, after all. Reaping Day.

My sister attempts to run away from me, arms outstretched, but I reach out and scoop her up into my arms easily, her laughter bubbling out of her. "Nice try, Posy," I say, ruffling her dark hair. "Give it back now," I say, attempting to sound stern with her, but hard as I try, I just can't. Posy leaps out of my arms and lands square on her feet, then holds up my shirt for me to take. I take it from her fingers and pull it on over my head, the fabric doing little to warm me. "I've gotta go, Posy," I say quietly, crouching down to her height. She gazes at me with wide, dark eyes before speaking. "Where?" she asks me, just as she does every weekend. Every time I tell her I have to leave her. "Just… over to the market," I lie smoothly. My real destination is the woods, of course. "I'll be back soon, okay?" I promise her, then stand back up. "Be good for Mom," I add as I begin to walk towards the door. My hunting bag sits on the ground and I pick it up just as I pull the door open; it has nearly closed behind me when I hear her voice reply, "I will!"

I make my way through the Seam and to the edge of the district quickly; the dirt roads are abandoned this morning, as the mines are closed. No one works on Reaping Day.

As I approach the electric fence, I pause for a moment, waiting to hear the soft hum that reveals whether the fence is switched on or not. Silence. I move forward at a quicker pace, hoping to take down a few squirrels or rabbits before Katniss arrives later this morning.

Before even a half-hour passes, my bag holds two squirrels. The baker should take these for trade, possibly for a few slices of his freshest and finest bread. I toss the bag over my shoulder and then glide under the fence easily, its metal links still uncharged. The town square, where the bakery is located, is a short walk away, and in a matter of minutes, the bell that signals the arrival of a customer is jingling over my head as I enter. Mr. Mellark looks up from his ledger with a paper thin smile, and while on another day, I might be curious as to why his demeanor is not of its normal joviality that he puts on for customers, today I know the reason.

Every parent is worried sick for their children on Reaping Day.

"Morning," I greet him shortly. "Two squirrels. I'll take whatever you can give me for them." I hold out the bag for him to take from me, and he does. Mr. Mellark peers inside for less than thirty seconds before meeting my eyes again.

"Good. Does a loaf of bread sound alright?" he offers, removing the animals from my bag before handing it back to me.

More than I had hoped for- an entire loaf. I nod briefly, and the baker smiles at me with more sincerity this time.

"Let me just- well, er- Peeta!" he fumbles about for a few moments before calling out the name of his youngest son. I hadn't noticed him lurking in the back, tending to flames, but he emerges from the kitchen and wipes his hands on his apron. "Yes?" he replies respectfully.

"Could you get Gale a loaf of white bread?" Mr. Mellark asks Peeta. "I've got to go put these away , before…" He needs not finish his sentence. _Before any Peacekeepers come into the shop._ Peeta understands his father and nods. "Of course, sure," he says easily. Peeta gives me a friendly smile, which I do not attempt to return. He's nice enough, but he's one of the merchants' kids. The kind of kids who never know what it's like to go hungry or starve. The kind of kids that don't share with those of us from the Seam.

Peeta hands me the loaf of bread and I nod once more before turning to leave; a wordless thanks. "Have a good day," he calls politely, standing back from the counter.

I look back at him over my shoulder, my eyebrows coming together as I answer his farewell. "It's Reaping Day," I say flatly. "Not a thing about it is good."

Peeta doesn't know what to say to this, and mumbles something incoherently. I smirk slightly, then move to leave. As I pull the door open, I do not try to swallow my second comment. "Hey, Peeta," I say, barely glancing at him. The baker's son looks up at me hesitantly. "Yeah?"

"May the odds be ever in your favor," I quip, raising my eyebrows at him.

And without waiting for his reaction or reply, I shut the bakery door behind me, leaving Peeta Mellark lost for words.


	2. Chapter 2

I've been waiting at our spot in the woods for a few minutes before I hear her footsteps behind me. Katniss. Her foot falls are light, and barely there- I've taught her how to make them quiet as possible- but I still catch the whispers they make as her boots tread over the leaves and grasses of the forest.

"Hey, Catnip," I say. A smile rises on my face at the sight of her instantaneous smile. She never smiles outside these woods. Not like she does here, anyways. Out there, she might smirk at a joke under mumbled breaths with me in the hallways, or offer a soft smile to Prim, her younger sister, or Posy, my younger sister; but here is where she truly smiles. Her eyes light up and her nose crinkles ever so slightly, and she even laughs on occasion. I try to rise one of these rare laughs from her with my next remark.

"Look what I shot." I hold up the loaf of bread from Mellark's bakery. I've stuck an arrow through the middle, and the joke does get her to laugh as I'd hoped. Katniss takes it from me and pulls the arrow out, then breaks it in half.

"God, this smells amazing. It's still warm and everything," she says, taking in the scent of the freshly baked loaf. "How much did it cost you?"

"Just a squirrel. Think the old man was feeling sentimental this morning," I answer. "Generous. Guess he felt bad for me, some kid from the Seam with his name written on dozens of slips," I say, looking out to the forest that stretches out beyond. There's silence for a brief moment, and then I speak again. "Forty two times. How many is your name in for?" I ask, meeting her gaze once again.

"Twenty," Katniss answers. She pauses for a minute before exclaiming, "Oh! Prim left us a cheese."

I welcome her distraction. "Thank you, Prim. We'll feast like Capitol citizens today." I take a portion of the cheese Katniss offers me and spread a thin layer of it over the bread before taking a bite into the wedge. "I almost forgot," I say, reaching out and plucking a berry from the bushes that enclose our meeting place. "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds-" Here, I toss a blackberry towards her, and she catches it in her mouth. "Be ever in your favor!" she finishes, mimicking the Capitol accent. I laugh and shake my head; do those frilly, colorful birds realize how silly they sound when they speak?

I pull out a knife and slice the other portion of the bread with more care; the two of us have already inhaled the first half without much thought. I spread Prim's soft cheese over the slices, then place a basil leaf in the center as Katniss gathers handfuls of berries from the bushes that surround us. From here, we can see everything these woods have to offer. The rivers are glistening in the sunlight, full of fish and thick with reeds and edible roots. Vines and other plant life heavy with fruit are abundant, and nooks and crannies for hiding- or living in- are everywhere. There are caves, or creeks where a dug out could be constructed; more wood then we'd ever need to make a house or a cabin. I've considered the idea a thousand times, but for some reason, in light of the day's coming events, I vocalize it to Katniss for the first time.

"We could do it, you know," I say quietly.

"What?" she asks, turning to look at me curiously.

"Leave the district. Run off, live in the woods. You and I, we could make it," I explain. I know the two of us would survive easily. Build a comfortable but small home, hunt and fish by day and sit around a warm fire at night. Then I realize that the two of us have families; mothers, children, who depend on us to feed them, take care of them, fend for them. Sometimes, in the woods, I forget all this, and get caught up in the pair of us alone. "If we didn't have so many kids," I add quickly.

Katniss' expression relaxes slightly at this. "You think?" she asks.

"Do I lie to you, Catnip?" I reply easily. She already knows the answer, and doesn't bother to say it, only acknowledging my answer with an eye roll and a slight smirk.

The rest of the morning carries on as our days off always do. We hunt and gather and fish, and by noon we've collected a gallon of strawberries, a bucket full of fish, and a bag of edible greens to feast on tonight after the Reaping. After our usual rounds of selling off or trading away portions of all our goods, we part ways; Katniss waves to me, expressionless, from the top step of her porch, and I continue further down the road to my own home.

When I get in the front door, I am immediately tackled by Posy. She hangs on to my leg and I laugh as her hands cling desperately to me. "What is it now?" I ask, shaking my head as I drop my bag by the door. "Vick win in hide and go seek?"

Posy shakes her head emphatically. "No!" she exclaims loudly. "Momma wants me to get dressed up now, and I don't wanna!" Posy's expression shows no humor; her eyebrows are furrowed and she displays a frown on her face.

I pick her up easily and toss her over my shoulder. "I know it's not fun, but we have to go," I explain, sighing. "All the other girls there will be wearing dresses or skirts too, you know," I inform her. Posy's neck snaps up and she looks at me curiously.

"Are you sure?" she asks me.

"Positive," I reply, walking back towards the bedroom with Posy still holding on to my shoulder.

"Like who?"

"Like… Mom. And Prim. And Katniss," I say, entering her shared bedroom with the other boys and I. "Look, you've got a pretty dress, don't you wanna look pretty today?" I coax her, motioning to the small dress my mother has left on the bed for Posy. It's grey, with tiny white flowers scattered on the fabric. My mother made it out of the material from one of her old dresses that was too thin to wear any longer.

Eventually, I manage to get Posy to wear the dress. My mother smiles thankfully at me from the door frame, and I have a feeling she has been standing there watching us for a few minutes. I stand up and go to hug her, but she stops me just before I wrap my arms around her.

"Thank you," she says quietly.

"It's no problem," I reply, brushing her words away. "Posy's ready to go, and that's what matters."But my mother is insistent.

"No, not for that," she continues. "For… for everything." She doesn't have to explain further. I can read her expression easily, and I barely smile at her, hoping she understands that I know what she means. She allows me to hug her then, and then, after a moment, loosens her grasp on me.

"Go get cleaned up." My mother claps my shoulder. "We need to be leaving soon."

I nod in response and go wash my face in the main room of the house. A basin with clean water sits atop a table, built by my father before he died. He built most of the furniture himself, purchasing the wood from the depot in the center of town by the train station, and then fashioning it during his rare free evenings. Around the table sits five of the chairs he made, but there is a sixth, unmatching chair on the end. Posy's seat. My father never got to finish the high chair he was building before he died in a mine explosion.

Ten minutes later, I am ready, as are Rory, Vick, Posy, and my mother. Together, we set out for the square, where the Reaping will take place. The walk is mostly quiet; I can only speak for myself when I say I am thinking of the forty two times my name is inside those glass bowls, but I can guess that at least my mother is thinking of it, too.

On the brighter side, this is my last year in the Reaping. Then again, next year, Rory will have his name in three times. The fewest amount of entries possible for his age group. My mother and I refuse to allow any of the boys or Posy to ever take out tesserae.

We arrive at the square ten minutes before two. It's already filled with silent crowds of children, sorted up by gender and age group. My mother goes to stand with Vick and Posy where the families are ordered to watch, and Rory and I go to check in with the Peacekeepers at the tables. Once they have pricked our fingers and blotted our blood into their books, I direct him towards the boys of his age group, and then join the other boys in mine. I look across to the girls' side of the square and see Katniss standing with the sixteens, her face blank. It only takes a moment for her to feel my gaze upon her and then she meets it. I must look ashen-faced, because she immediately opens her mouth to try and communicate something with me, but the anthem begins and I am forced to face the front, and watch as the mentors and the mayor begin the ceremony.

It all goes by in an blur- even Haymitch Abernathy's drunken appearance, our best shot at comedic relief- and all of a sudden, Effie Trinket is tapping the microphone and announcing, "Ladies first!"

Her ridiculous heels click across the concrete stage, and then she stops behind the large glass bowl that holds all the girls' slips. She reaches one thin hand with impressively claw-like nails attached to her fingers into the bowl, then pulls out a single slip. The tension is thick, and I see the mothers clutch their hands with baited breaths, praying their daughters are not called to the stage.

_Not Katniss, Not Katniss, Not Katniss._ The words are rapidly repeating themselves in my head, so much so that they are the only words I can hear. When I finally hear the name called, Effie's high pitched voice piercing through my hurricane of thoughts, the name isn't Katniss Everdeen. The name is Primrose Everdeen.

Everything seems to slow down; my thoughts, my reflexes, my heartbeat. I feel like I've been punched in the gut. The air in my lungs has escaped and my chest rises and falls, struggling to take in breath. I watch as the crowd parts around Prim, hoping she will step forward and take her place. The mothers are staring at her open-mouthed; Prim is so small, so tiny. They pity her, and some even cry, but Mrs Everdeen herself shows no emotion. She stares ahead as if her child has not been called to her death, to her grave.

I have to move, I have to do something. My feet carry me towards the outward aisle, and the boys around me part to allow me to pass.

And then Katniss is screaming Prim's name, and Prim is screeching for Katniss as the guards come and surround her. I have to reach her. Prim. Or Katniss- I'm not too sure which. Katniss' face contorts with fury and she is running, pushing away the guards, and it is then that I know what she's going to say before she says it.

Knowing does not take the pain away. I have never been stabbed, only clawed or cut or burned, but the emotion that overwhelms my chest now is worse than all three together. I would rather suffer through all three, or worse, far, far, worse, than hear the words that Katniss screams in desperation, than watch her go into the arena.

"I volunteer!" Her voice is shrill. Cracked with emotion. I am standing in the center aisle and uncertain of what to do until Prim begins to clutch to Katniss, and it is then that I race forward. Katniss repeats herself, more steady this time. This does not lessen the grip of pain on my chest."I volunteer as tribute."

I pull Prim from Katniss; she is crying and kicking and I'm afraid the Peacekeepers will lash out at her. I pick her up and hoist her over my shoulder, the same way I carry Posy at home. "Up you go, Catnip," I say, struggling to keep my voice steady as I am forced away from Katniss. I lock eyes with her for a moment that takes no time but lasts a thousand heartbeats, and then they push her forward and she is going up the stage steps, going to stand by Effie, going to leave me.

I can't stand in the aisle and watch, though. I tear my eyes from her and focus on Mrs. Everdeen, who watched the events unfold with only slight interest. This angers me more than it should, and my steps are faster, quicker. Prim continues to cry out and I lower my voice to speak so only she can hear me.

"It's okay, Prim. It's okay. It's okay." I am lying and I am repeating myself and Prim knows it and I know it, but she quiets herself to a soft sob. I rub her back slightly; my mother taught me that the motion soothes children back when Posy would have trouble sleeping due to hunger, cold, or sickness. It seems to help a little, but then I hear it. I am only just putting Prim down with her mother when I hear Effie Trinket announce that she will be reaping the boy's name next, after an oh-so-exciting turn of events, isn't it just so thrilling?

This, how she sees Katniss' sacrifice for her sister, as thrilling sickens me. My stomach twists and I barely manage to press a kiss to Prim's forehead before I must sprint back to the boys half of the square. My footsteps are loud, unlike they are in the woods; they echo against the pavement and I am painfully aware that stares are being directed towards me.

I make it back to the group as Effie pulls out the slip- it is already in her grasp, and I have no time to hope that the name isn't mine. When she opens it, and reads the name out to a crowd, I wonder if one last wish would have made a difference.

Because the name she reads out is my own.


	3. Chapter 3

"Gale Hawthorne?" Effie's shrill voice calls out once more. My name echoes off the cold stone walls of the Justice Building, the place where I received a medal of honor for my father's death in the mines.

It is probably where they will bring my body back to, so that my family can bury it themselves.

I laugh under my breath. It's humorless, of course, but I laugh anyways. What a cruel joke fate has played- someone should laugh to appreciate it. The crowds part again as I walk to the center of the square again, and as the guards surround me, I am not laughing anymore. What a terrible joke fate has played.

I look up and see Katniss' glassy eyes staring at me. Her mouth is ajar, and she is visibly shaken. Astonished. Upset. I know she will regret showing emotion to the crowds later, even if it is only for a few moments. I clench my jaw and do as I'm told without fighting back, for once. The stairs I climb to the stage feel like a mountain, but I make it to the top. I am expressionless. This is hard to maintain as I can see Rory, Vick, and my mother- Posy is too young to understand- all struggling to hold back tears in the crowd. I fix my eyes on some nonexistent point in the distance and keep them set there. When they show the tapes of the Reapings later today, I do not want the other tributes to see me as a weakling, or an easy bloodbath kill.

"Shake hands, you two," Effie says quietly- although her voice is still high pitched as ever.

I swallow hard as I turn to face Katniss. Take her hand in mine, just as I have wanted to do for a long time. For a while, now. But not like this. Never like this. We shake hands, and her eyes meet mine again. She has wiped her face clean as well, but her eyes give her away. To me, at least.

I think my own give my thoughts away. You're coming back.

I know they do. Because in response, Katniss gives me an almost indistinguishable headshake. My only reply is a steely glare.

Then we are letting go and Effie's hands are on our shoulders as she announces our names proudly to the crowd.

"Let's have a big round of applause for the tributes of District 12- Katniss Everdeen and Gale Hawthorne!"

It all happens so quickly, what happens next. Katniss and I move to take each other's hands instantaneously, and we raise them in the air, high above our heads. Two as one. Extensions of each other. This is how we will go into the arena.

District 12 knows us well. The people of the Hob, the black market in town, see us enter the place every day together. Our families, tied together by our friendship. Friendship seems too light of a word for what we are, though, but I can't seem to think of a better one. Our school mates, who watch us interact in the hallways often, speaking in serious tones and bitter laughs. I know they have seen us wander the town as well, often falling silent for a split second when we pass their stomping grounds. The whole town knows that we hunt, we trade, we break the rules, yet I wouldn't venture to say that we are loved. Respected, maybe, for what we do, but not loved. They are all too afraid to defy the Capitol themselves, but respect us for rebelling in our own way.

But this is thrown aside, forgotten, for one moment. At first one, then another few, then almost every member of the crowd presses the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips, and raises them in the air towards us. Katniss and I return it together with our other hands, lowering our intertwined ones in between us. The symbol is old, and rarely used in our district, but everyone knows what it means. It means gratitude for life; admiration.

It means goodbye to someone you love.

Effie is at a loss for words for a few seconds, and then the anthem begins to play. The crowd lowers their hands, as do we, but as I slacken my grip slightly on her hand, she holds onto it with more fervor, and so I do not let go.

We are ushered to the doors behind the stage, to the rooms where we will be allowed to say our goodbyes. Katniss and I hold on to each other until they pull us apart, and then I am alone in a plush room with velvet couches and silk curtains and clean glass windows.

I despise it immediately. Not five, ten miles away slump wooden houses encrusted with coal dust and dirt, the insides lacking heat in the winter and cool air during the summer. Lacking most everything, actually. Yet here these rooms sit unused, day in and day out, with material and fabric that could be sold and the money used to feed a family for a month. Or better yet, used to build a house that is fit to live in.

Ten minutes later, I hear the door open, and my family pours in. My mother is not crying, not yet, but Vick's face is smeared with tears, and Rory's lip quivers. Posy clings to his hand, unsure as to why they are all in this state.

I wrap my arms around my mother first. I hear her let out a choked sob- only loud enough so I can hear. Hearing her cry angers me more. How dare they do this, take me away from her, when she's already lost so much and suffered so? They only mean to break us apart so it is harder to rise against them, of course.

But I will rise anyways. Someway, somehow.

"I am so sorry," she says softly. My mother leans away from me and looks up at me with red eyes. I have only seen her cry two times in my life- when my father died, and now.

"It's not your fault," I tell her.

"We could have gone by a few nights without. Kept your name out of the bowls so many-"

"Stop," I cut her off. "Don't think like that. We did what we had to. And I wouldn't change a thing," I say. To make up for my stern tone I press a kiss to the top of her head. I hope it communicates everything I cannot put into words. When she squeezes my arm one last time, I know she understands. I know she understands why I cannot promise to come home.

I let go of my mother, and clasp a hand on Rory's shoulder. His lip is shaking still and he looks like he is about to cry, but I can't and don't have time for that now.

"Listen to me. You got to take care of them, alright? Don't sign up for tesserae. Not once. You know where Katniss leaves her bow in the woods. Use it. You can try a few of the snares I've taught you, but I'd rather you use the bow, seeing as you're better at it and there's a more immediate reward. Mom knows how to cook the squirrels, rabbits, and birds, but trade some in town at the bakery for bread. Take Prim with you to pick berries, roots, and other plants Ms Everdeen will need in the woods. Sell the berries to the mayor, keep half the roots to give them to Mom, and give all the plants to Prim's mother. Keep Prim safe in the woods, and don't hunt when she's there. She doesn't like it." My instructions are based on what Katniss and I agreed upon a long time ago, although I am now forced to adapt them seeing as now neither of us can protect our families. "Don't stay out after dark. Don't take Vick with you into the woods, and help Mom whenever she needs it. If-" here, I lower my voice so only he can hear me. "If I don't come back, and Katniss- Katniss does, she'll bring you game. Learn from her. She can teach you some of my snares, too." A single tear has now spilled over onto his cheek, but Rory nods solemnly. He then reaches out and wraps his arms around me tightly, and I bite my lip and ruffle his hair.

"Take care of them," I tell him. My voice is getting slightly choked, and so I clear my throat. Rory pulls on my shirt and I look down at him, and then his voices comes out in a whisper so quiet I can barely hear it. "Please come home."

I swallow audibly. "I'll try," I say, but I can't make any promises.

After all, there is no room for promises in the Games.

And the games have already begun.


End file.
